


Transatlanticism

by theglitterati



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chatting & Messaging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is on a study abroad in NYC with two months left until he comes home; Grantaire's the only one awake and online in Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. NYC

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Death Cab For Cutie album.

Enjolras was feeling restless.

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence lately. For most people, going on a study abroad made them busier; apart from their classes and social life, they had so much to see, so much to do in their new cities that it was difficult for them to find time to rest. But Enjolras, who had a very busy life back home in Paris that hadn’t quite been replicated in New York City, even with all of the new sights to see, often found himself meandering pointlessly around his room, searching for something to do.

He sat down at the desk and checked the time on his phone. 9:12 p.m. That meant that it would be 3:12 a.m. in Paris, so there was little chance that any of his friends were still awake and online. Still, he had nothing better to do, so he opened up Facebook chat to check anyway.

He wrote in the group chat for Les Amis:

 **Enjolras:** _Is anyone still awake?_

Four minutes of tapping a pencil against the top of his desk later, Enjolras got a reply.

 **Grantaire:** _I am._

Enjolras made a face at the computer. _Of course it had to be him that replied,_ he thought. _Just my luck_.

Well, he couldn’t exactly not reply now, and no one else was coming in the group chat to save him, so Enjolras opened a private message with Grantaire. Unlike most of the other members of the group, they had no conversation history.

 **Enjolras:** _Hey. I haven’t talked to you in a while. Why are you up so late?_

Enjolras cringed at how painfully awkward this whole thing was already. He despised this type of online small talk, and he and Grantaire had never been much for casual conversation.

 **Grantaire:** _I work at a bar, remember?? I just got home like twenty minutes ago._

 **Grantaire:** _What time is it there?_

 **Enjolras:** _It’s just after nine. Pm. And I did actually remember that you work in a bar, it just didn’t occur to me._

Enjolras hoped Grantaire wouldn’t ask more about his work, or Enjolras wouldn’t be able to keep up the lie.

 **Grantaire:** _Sure. How is NYC? Have you single-handedly turned America into a communist paradise yet??_

Enjolras rolled his eyes. _Here we go,_ he thought. _Some things never change._

 **Enjolras:** _If you’re going to be like this, there’s no point in us talking. I don’t even know why I bothered._

 **Grantaire:** _Yikes, you’re touchier than you used to be. Anyway, I was only joking. Seriously, how is New York??_

Enjolras considered just ignoring him, but he decided that he would rather argue with Grantaire if necessary than go back to being bored. At least it was something to do.

 **Enjolras:** _It’s fine. My classes are good, though you’d be surprised, there are people in them that talk more than I do. And there are a lot of people doing really good things on campus, in groups similar to ABC._

 **Grantaire:** _You must be a member of like ten of them by now._

Enjolras pursed his lips, then started typing again.

 **Enjolras:** _Actually, I’m not. I tried to join a few at the start of the year, but it didn’t really work out. I’m only working with two groups right now, both of which work on environmental causes._

Enjolras waited patiently for whatever harassment Grantaire had to offer in response to that.

 **Grantaire:** _Why didn’t it work out??_

That was unexpected.

 **Enjolras:** _It was weird. I’m not really used to being a low-level member of these kinds of things, and I didn’t really get to have much input. And rightly so, because it wasn’t my place to talk over people who actually live here._

 **Grantaire:** _I would have thought that you would have taken it as a lesson in humility._

 **Enjolras:** _I tried. But I hated just sitting there and not saying anything. At least the environmental groups aren’t like that, because everyone gets a say about the environment._

 **Grantaire:** _I see._

 **Grantaire:** _But do you like living there though?? Do you heart New York??_

Enjolras pulled the computer closer and twisted around in his chair, settling in more comfortably.

 **Enjolras:** _I do like it here. Like I said, school is really good. It’s really different from at home, but it’s a nice challenge. People are really friendly here, too, though I think it’s mostly because they like my accent. Someone literally asked me to say “baguette” for them once._

 **Grantaire:** _Hahahahaha_

 **Enjolras:** _And there’s so much to do, like museums and historical sites to visit and stuff. I went to Boston for a weekend, that was fun, and to Montréal, which was cool, too, even though getting back across the border was a pain._

 **Grantaire:** _But?????_

Enjolras crinkled his nose.

 **Enjolras:** _But I miss Paris, too. And our friends. I mean, I have friends here, and like responsibilities and school and a life, but it’s not the same._

 **Grantaire:** _Yeah, I can imagine. How long until you come back?_

 **Enjolras:** _Two months. My flight is on May 20 th._

 **Grantaire:** _That’s not too long._

Enjolras sighed. It seemed long.

 **Grantaire:** _You should try to get the most out of your last two months there. Make sure you take every opportunity available._

 **Enjolras:** _Thanks for the advice._

Enjolras realized then that he was probably being rude, having not asked Grantaire a single question about his own life, or even their friends. He was about to ask when Grantaire’s next message came through.

 **Grantaire:** _Hey, I’m going to go to sleep now, I’m pretty tired. But message me if you do anything interesting, yeah?_

 **Enjolras:** _Yeah, I will. Goodnight._

 **Grantaire:** _Goodnight Enjolras._

Enjolras scrolled through his newsfeed for a few minutes, then got back up and started pacing the room once more.

***

He did eventually get to ask Grantaire about his own life, though he found out that there wasn’t much new going on with him.

Enjolras, of course, woke up the next morning to messages from five different members of the group who had been asleep when he sent the message, all of them wanting to know what he had been up to. Though he spoke to Combeferre and Courfeyrac nearly every day, he spoke with most of the others less frequently, and it had been nice to catch up with all of them.

But despite having more free time here than he had in Paris, Enjolras was still Enjolras, and he was still often occupied throughout the entire morning and afternoon. And then, by the time he got home, Grantaire was often the only one left awake in France to talk to. And thus, the two started talking regularly after that first conversation.

And it was nice, Enjolras found. They could keep a conversation going for hours at times, about whatever topics came up naturally. They barely even argued.

Two weeks later, Enjolras came home after a long day with something that he couldn’t wait to show Grantaire.

 **Enjolras:** _Hey, are you online?_

 **Grantaire:** _Yes, I am. What’s up??_

 **Enjolras:** _I went to the MoMA today. Wanna see some pictures?_

Enjolras had definitely always known that Grantaire liked art and was an art student and definitely did not only learn that last week.

 **Grantaire:** _Yes!!_

Enjolras sent on some of the pictures he had taken, of paintings by Van Gogh, Warhol, Matisse, and Dali. He knew next to nothing about art; he just picked the ones with big names that he recognized and hoped that Grantaire would like them.

 **Grantaire:** _These are great!! I’m so jealous. Did you have fun??_

 **Enjolras:** _Yeah! I mean, you probably could have appreciated it more, but I still had a good time._

 **Grantaire:** _Who did you go with??_

 **Enjolras:** _I just went by myself._

He hoped that didn’t sound too pathetic.

 **Grantaire:** _Oh. Sorry for asking._

 **Enjolras:** _You don’t have to be sorry for asking. I like doing things by myself._

 **Grantaire:** _Really? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without Combeferre or Courfeyrac trailing around after you._

 **Enjolras:** _That’s different, I’ve known them practically my whole life, I’m used to them being around._

 **Grantaire:** _So you just never hang out with anyone there??_

 **Enjolras:** _I do, but at school and club meetings and stuff. Not at a museum for a whole day. I don’t know, I’m just more comfortable doing stuff alone. I’m not the best at making friends. I figured you would be the first person to point that out._

 **Grantaire:** _Why would you think that??_

 **Enjolras:** _Um, because you’re literally always the first to point out whenever I do something stupid or wrong?_

 **Grantaire:** _What_

 **Grantaire:** _No_

 **Grantaire:** _I point out when your plans or ideas are stupid or wrong. I would never say that you were._

 **Enjolras:** _That I was what?_

 **Grantaire:** _Stupid. Or wrong. You’re neither._

Enjolras just stared at the screen for a moment.

 **Enjolras:** _Oh. Okay._

 **Enjolras:** _I have more pictures if you want to see?_

Grantaire was slower than usual answering.

 **Grantaire:** _Sure._

***

One day near the middle of April, Enjolras got home to find something strange going on in the Les Amis group chat.

 **Prouvaire:** _Hey, so, should I bother posting the minutes of the meeting from today? I mean, I took them, but……_

 **Feuilly:** _I wouldn’t recommend it._

 **Lesgles:** _Maybe just add the beginning part of today to next week’s?_

Enjolras jumped into the conversation. He was still the leader of Les Amis, after all, even if his spot was being temporarily filled by Combeferre.

 **Enjolras:** _Did something happen?_

He didn’t get a reply for ten minutes, which wasn’t promising, as the others had just been talking back and forth a few seconds before he entered the chat.

 **Feuilly:** _No, nothing happened, don’t worry. We just got a bit carried away talking and didn’t really accomplish much._

Enjolras opened his private chat with Grantaire.

 **Enjolras:** _What happened at the meeting today?_

 **Grantaire:** _It was like Feuilly said, we just dicked around and didn’t accomplish anything. Combeferre isn’t as strict as you, he doesn’t make us all face forward and not talk to each other._

 **Enjolras:** _I appreciate the effort you put into selling that story, but really? You’re going to lie to me, too?_

 **Grantaire:** _Fine. But you can’t tell anyone I told you. Combeferre made us all promise that we wouldn’t._

 **Enjolras:** _Wtf happened?_

 **Grantaire:** _Ugh okay… Combeferre and Courfeyrac got in a fight. Like, yelling at each other, right in the middle of the meeting, right in front of everyone._

 **Enjolras:** _Seriously???? About what?_

 **Grantaire:** _Are you sure you should be asking? They specifically didn’t want you to know. They probably would have told you if they wanted to._

 **Enjolras:** _If I was at home, I would have been there anyway, so just tell me._

 **Grantaire:** _Fine, but it’s on you. Anyway, Jehan was talking about something about a protest (idk, sorry, but I wasn’t paying attention) and Courf leaned across the table to tell Marius that he had a date tonight, and Marius was asking him who with, where, etc. And then Combeferre said something like “don’t you think you’ve been on enough dates lately”. And then Courf just like SNAPPED and started freaking out at him, and Combeferre was yelling back which was TERRIFYING, and then Courf just left and Marius and Cosette left with him, and then Combeferre said he was going home, too, so we basically just decided that the meeting was over after that._

Enjolras read the message over three times.

 **Enjolras:** _Okay. Thanks for telling me._

 **Grantaire:** _You’re not going to say anything to them, are you??_

 **Enjolras:** _No, I won’t, don’t worry._

Enjolras got off the computer and went to sit on his bed, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Unfortunately for Grantaire, he wasn’t the only one in the group who was willing to lie when he needed to. Enjolras wasn’t sure who to text first, but he decided on Courfeyrac, since it seemed like he was the one more upset by the situation.

 **Enjolras:** _Are you okay?_

 **Courfeyrac:** _Wow, that was fast. Who did you break?_

 **Enjolras:** _Does it matter? I want to know if you’re okay._

 **Courfeyrac:** _Not really, but I’m sure you already figured that out._

 **Enjolras:** _I’m sorry. What’s going on with you two?_

 **Courfeyrac:** _Why don’t you ask Combeferre? He’s the one that decided to slut-shame me in front of everyone._

 **Courfeyrac:** _Sorry, I don’t mean to be snappy at you, too. I just don’t want to talk about it right now._

 **Enjolras:** _Okay. I’m sorry. Again. Text me if you do want to talk. Feel better._

 **Courfeyrac:** _Thanks <3_

Enjolras went for Combeferre next.

 **Enjolras:** _What happened between you and Courf?_

 **Combeferre:** _Great. Apparently no one can keep a secret anymore._

 **Enjolras:** _Ferre, wtf?_

 **Combeferre:** _Look, I know it was awful, okay? I feel terrible about. Are you happy? I’m going to text him later and apologize._

 **Enjolras:** _But why did you say it in the first place?_

 **Enjolras:** _And you should probably apologize in person._

 **Combeferre:** _I can’t tell you. Sorry. I know I sound like an asshole, but I can’t say anything._

Enjolras felt like throwing his phone against the wall.

 **Enjolras:** _Fine. Talk to me when you can I guess._

Combeferre didn’t reply. _Wonderful,_ Enjolras thought. _My two best friends refuse to talk to me, or each other. That’s healthy._

Enjolras checked his calendar. April 17th – 33 days until he went home.

It couldn’t come fast enough.


	2. NYC

The beginning of May saw Enjolras in his natural habitat: at a protest. It was a rally against climate change on the front lawn of the university, hosted by one of the groups of which Enjolras was a member.

It wasn’t exactly how Enjolras would have planned it. The idea of just protesting “climate change” was far too general. Though the group did have specific goals, they had chosen instead to just focus on their bigger message, a decision Enjolras did not agree with. But he wasn’t (as he so often reminded himself) in charge here, so he kept quiet and played his part.

His part turned out to be handing out flyers to passersby on the ground, which was his absolute least favourite thing to do at these events. He was much more comfortable on a stage, reading something that he’d prepared in advance, than on the ground, trying to make small talk with people who weren’t at all invested in the cause (in his second language, no less). It was boring, tedious grunt work. By the end of the day, he was somehow both exhausted and wired, desperate to find anything to satisfy his urge to do something productive despite how much his aching body just wanted to go to sleep.

What he decided to do was Nick.

Nick was an acquaintance from the group, a tall Puerto Rican guy from Staten Island with short black hair and an indistinguishable tattoo that just peeked out over the top of his shirt. He was studying marine biology, and was one of the few people who seemed as passionate about his chosen field as Enjolras was about his own.

It was Nick who initiated things, whispering “your place or mine?” in Enjolras’s ear just as the protest was winding down. He had a cocky grin on his face when he said it, though it was replaced with a look of surprise when Enjolras, aching to feel useful, simply answered “yours” with a shrug.

They fell into bed together an hour later. It was fine, Enjolras thought. Nick was skilled, studied, attentive. Enjolras found out that his tattoo was a seahorse. But as things progressed, they inevitably came to the same impasse that Enjolras had faced every other time, with every other guy.

“How do you want me?” Nick breathed against Enjolras’s collarbone.

_ Behind me, fucking me into the mattress until I scream,  _ Enjolras thought. But how to explain? People always had the same expectations of him, no matter what side of the Atlantic he was on.

It was easier to just give them what they wanted.

“Roll over,” Enjolras commanded, rising up onto his knees.

Afterwards, despite being even more tired, Enjolras didn’t stick around. Nick didn’t seem too surprised.

It was midnight by the time he got home, which meant six a.m. in Paris. There was no chance that Grantaire or anyone else would be online, unless perhaps Courfeyrac had gotten up early for a run – but then again, he and Combeferre still weren’t talking to Enjolras very much anyway. Enjolras felt a bit irritated with himself for missing out on talking to Grantaire or anyone else. At least he was tired, and fell asleep quickly.

***

On Saturday, a week later, Les Amis de L’ABC held their end-of-year event, where they spoke about what they accomplished in the past two semesters and what they hoped for in the future, and Enjolras found himself sitting alone in his apartment, his brain going on a misery spiral about the fact that he wasn’t there for it. He’d contributed as much as he could from the States, communicating mostly with Jehan and Joly instead of Combeferre, who seemed hell bent on avoiding him as much as possible. He had seen the plans, and knew that they were going to do a wonderful job, but he couldn’t help but wish he’d been the one in charge of planning it.

It was made worse by the fact that school had ended the day before, so Enjolras didn’t even have readings or class work to distract him. By the time Grantaire came online at three in the afternoon Enjolras’s time, he was practically pulling out his hair with frustration.

**Grantaire:** _ Do you think you sent me enough messages while I was out?? _

Enjolras may have been a little overzealous, sending last-minute ideas and demanding news. Grantaire either didn’t check his phone nearly often enough, or he was ignoring them on purpose.

**Enjolras:** _ How was it?! _

**Grantaire:** _Good. There was a big crowd, just as big as last year’s. Combeferre did a good job leading people._ _I think Feuilly said there were like 30 new sign-ups for the email newsletter._

Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief.

**Grantaire:** _ Musichetta took pictures. Whoever does that kinda thing is gonna put them on the website soon, but I have some on my phone. Wanna see? _

**Enjolras:** _ Yes! _

Grantaire sent the pictures a minute later (far too slowly for Enjolras’s taste). There were lots, thankfully, because as soon as Enjolras saw them, he was hit with a stabbing pain to the chest, unaware until that moment just how much he missed his friends.

The first few were of the rally itself, and Grantaire was right, the crowd was huge. Enjolras felt a surge of pride. Then the photographs devolved into personal shots, which were more heart-wrenching, but great to see. Enjolras noted with irritation that there were no pictures of Combeferre and Courfeyrac together.

The last shot made him smile the most. It was of Grantaire and Bossuet, smiling wide for the camera, with Joly on their shoulders. Grantaire’s eyes were sparkling, and Bossuet was wearing a ridiculous hat with the French flag printed on it and a cockade rosette pinned to the top.

**Grantaire:** _ Are you still alive? _

Enjolras realized that he’d been staring at the last picture for a solid ten minutes. He cleared his throat.

**Enjolras:** _ Yes. The pictures are great. It looks like you guys did a wonderful job. _

**Grantaire:** _ It was pretty great!! _

**Enjolras:** _ I think that’s the most enthusiastic I’ve ever heard you sound. _

**Grantaire:** _ Yeah, well, no offense to Combeferre, but he’s no you, and there was a lot of work to go around, so I actually had to participate for once. _

**Enjolras:** _ What did you do? _

**Grantaire:** _ I made the banners for the stage. They’re in the pictures. _

Enjolras flipped back to the photos. The banners looked incredible.

**Enjolras:** _ Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m surprised. I didn’t think you were going to meetings as much this year. _

**Grantaire:** _ What makes you say that? _

**Enjolras:** _ Well, I still read the minutes of every meeting. Your name was missing from a lot of them, at least until recently. _

**Grantaire:** _ Yeah, you caught me, I skipped out on a bunch in the fall. I got really busy with school, and something had to give. _

**Enjolras:** _ Well, I’m glad you’re back at it now :) The banners really do look great! _

**Grantaire:** _ Thanks!! _

They said goodbye a few minutes later. Enjolras spent some time catching up with the others, who were all coming online now, clearly just arriving home.

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, Enjolras was caught halfway between a buzz of energy from seeing their event go so well, and a desperation to be back at home with his friends. The countdown was on now, with only twelve days to go until he arrived back in Paris, but it felt further away than it had when he’d told Grantaire he had two months left. He distracted himself by throwing himself in starting exam review, as he still had three of those left.

Later, as he lay in bed trying to fall asleep, Enjolras found that he couldn’t get that particular image of Grantaire, Joly, and Bossuet out of his mind. Well, he could get the Joly and Bossuet part out, but not Grantaire.

He saw Grantaire’s profile picture every day when they talked, of course, but it was one thing to see a carefully-constructed selfie of someone, and an entirely different thing to see a picture taken of them that they couldn’t manipulate to flatter them.

But flatter him it did. Enjolras found himself wondering,  _ had Grantaire always been that well-toned?  _ Even through that stupid hoodie that he wore constantly, Enjolras could see the defined lines that lay underneath.  _ His hair looked… touchable,  _ Enjolras thought.  _ And were his eyes always that green? _

Enjolras reached into his side table drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and his favourite toy.

Grantaire, Enjolras thought as he reached under the covers, had never been afraid of him, or intimidated by him, the way that some people were. The way that even some of his friends besides Courfeyrac and Combeferre still were. They way that Nick had been.

Grantaire had never had a problem standing up to him, telling him off, even shouting at him on occasion. Grantaire (Enjolras spread himself open) wouldn’t be afraid to take control if Enjolras asked him – needed him – to. Grantaire could give him what he wanted.

He imagined Grantaire shoving him onto a bed, any bed, not wasting any time trying to be gentle. Grantaire pushing into him (he filled himself up with the toy), fucking him hard, pulling his hair, showing no restraint. Grantaire making him beg for his release. Leaving bruises on his thighs.

Enjolras came hard, panting, and wondered exactly what the hell he had just done.

***

The next few times Enjolras spoke to Grantaire, he felt beyond embarrassed about that night. And all of the subsequent nights. Embarrassed, and also a little bit intrigued.

**Enjolras:** _ Hey!! _

**Grantaire:** _ Yo, what’s up?? _

**Enjolras:** _ I’m just on my way out, but I saw you were online, and I wanted to say: I come home a week today!! I’m really excited to see you. And everyone else. _

**Grantaire:** _ Same, it’ll be great having you back!! _

**Grantaire:** _ This is supposed to be a surprise, but I think we’re all going to come to the airport to meet you when your plane lands. So try to act surprised. _

**Enjolras:** _ It would have been a lot easier to be surprised if you hadn’t told me. But I’m glad. Are you going to be there, then?? _

**Grantaire:** _ I think so. I might have to work, but I’ll try to make it. _

**Enjolras:** _ Great. Hopefully I’ll see you then. _

**Enjolras:** _ I have to go. Bye!! _

**Grantaire:** _ Bye!! See you soon. _


	3. NYC --> Paris

When May 20th finally arrived, after all of his exams had been completed and all of his papers handed in, Enjolras couldn’t wait to get back to Paris. He took the shuttle bus to JFK at five in the afternoon, passing the Statue of Liberty on the drive one last time before returning to her country of origin.

His flight was at eight p.m., though he wouldn’t be getting into Charles de Gaulle airport until almost four p.m. the next day, as he had a ridiculously out-of-the-way layover in Casablanca. His parents had booked the flight for him, and had set him up to fly first class, despite it requiring him touching down on an entirely different continent when he really just wanted to go home. In their heads, a 16-hour journey was somehow better than flying coach.

Enjolras swallowed two sleeping pills, and wondered how long he could get away with being back in France before he had to visit them.

He woke up an hour outside of Morocco, just in time to land and get settled in for a three-hour wait until his next flight. He gave a yearning look to the palm trees that were visible in the distance from the airport’s windows.

After three hours of sleeping fitfully on an airport bench, and three hours sleeping peacefully on the second plane, Enjolras was finally back in Paris. Deplaning, customs, and baggage flew by as his excitement to see his friends grew. Soon, he was pulling his suitcase into the main concourse of the airport, looking for the restaurant Combeferre had told him to meet him at. When he arrived, the group waiting for him was just as big as he’d anticipated it would be; it seemed that almost every one of his friends was there.

Except for Grantaire.

Enjolras grinned as he walked up to them – _his friends were all here! Here, in the flesh!_ – but his elation quickly hit a bump when Combeferre and Courfeyrac jumped up at the same time to greet him, then glared at each other immediately after.

Enjolras sighed internally, feeling like the child of divorced parents. Thankfully, Jehan was standing too, and was closer to Enjolras than either of them was, so Enjolras hugged them first, glad not to have to choose between his two best friends.

He got to them next, though, and then to the rest of the group. His friends laughed and called out greetings as he made his way around. Enjolras had been imagining this moment for months, building it up in his head, and it somehow managed to be even better than he had thought it would be. He felt at home, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Enjolras was still smiling uncontrollably and talking at full speed when Combeferre called, “Ready to go?” and they began to walk in the direction of one of the million parking lots.

Of all of twelve of them present, only Bahorel had a car, though Combeferre had rented a van for the day to accommodate their large group. Enjolras followed Combeferre to the van, as did Jehan, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, and Eponine. Enjolras was disappointed to see Courfeyrac veer off towards Bahorel’s car without a second glace, practically dragging Marius and Cosette after him.

The ride back to the city took a little over an hour with traffic. They chatted animatedly about Enjolras’s experiences in New York for the first half, then they filled him in on what had been going on in Paris for the second. Enjolras actually found that it was a bit difficult at first to get used to speaking French again, though within five minutes he was back to normal, thinking happily to himself about how much better his English had gotten in the past nine months. His friends made him demonstrate for them eventually, then laughed about his new American accent.

“We were thinking that we could all go get dinner together,” Combeferre said, when they were fifteen minutes from home. Enjolras had had his face pressed to the window for the last ten, eagerly drinking in the familiar sights of the city. “We didn’t want to put you on the spot, because we know you might be tired, but—”

“No, I want to,” Enjolras said. “I’m not tired at all. I slept on both planes, and the jet lag works in my favour this way – I’ll probably be up all night. I want to spend more time with everyone.” Including a certain someone who Enjolras was hoping just couldn’t make the airport trip but still might come for dinner – though he didn’t add that part.

“Okay,” Combeferre said back. “We’ll just drop your stuff at home, and then we’ll go.”

Enjolras practically jumped for joy when he entered his apartment. Combeferre’s parents were rich enough that he hadn’t needed to find a subletter, so Enjolras’s room was exactly as he’d left it. He flopped down onto his mattress for a moment before rejoining the others – even though he’d been sleeping in the same bed in New York for almost a year, _this_ was his bed.

The restaurant they chose – because they knew it was Enjolras’s favourite without needing to ask, _god, he'd missed them_ – was only a few blocks away, so taking the van again would have been pointless. Combeferre went to take it back to the rental company, promising to come to dinner as soon as he got back.

The car’s party beat them there, due to the fact that Bahorel drove like he was in a police chase and Combeferre drove like he was taking the driving test, and Enjolras was glad to sit down next to Courfeyrac, though he noted that Grantaire was yet again missing from the crowd. Using the restaurant’s wifi – since his American SIM card was still in his phone, and there was no way he was paying roaming charges – he sent him a quick message on Facebook:

 **Enjolras:** _I’m here in Paris!! We’re all having dinner. Are you at work??_

Then, without wasting a moment of time, he started in on Courfeyrac. He hadn’t had a chance to needle Combeferre about what was going on between them with the rest of the crowd in the car listening in, but everyone was sufficiently distracted now.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you two?” Enjolras muttered quietly.

Courfeyrac gave him a Look. “Can’t you just enjoy my company for five minutes before you make me talk about this?”

“No,” Enjolras said stubbornly. “Courf, whatever’s going on, I know it’s bad, and it was hard enough to watch through Facebook and both of you ignoring my texts. It’s even worse now that I’m here. Will you please just talk to me?” Courfeyrac listened with a stony expression on his face. Enjolras ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m worried about you, both of you.”

The server came over and took their orders then – Enjolras ordered French onion soup and quiche like a fucking tourist because he was so happy eat something familiar after months of pizza and Chinese food. Courfeyrac seemed to be looking for an opportunity to dodge Enjolras’s questioning, but Enjolras didn’t relent, giving him his trademarked _tell me, or else_ stare.

Unfortunately, Courfeyrac had had years of practice and was becoming immune to it. “I’m really not going to tell you,” he said rather sadly. “It’s not entirely my secret to tell, and if anyone should tell you, it should be him.” Enjolras didn’t need to ask who he meant. “He’s the one that started this, and he’s the one that kept ignoring me for a month until I finally gave up trying to talk to him about it.”

“I am sorry that I wasn’t talking to you as much lately, though,” he continued. “You just wouldn’t stop asking about him. But it was still rude of me.”

Enjolras wasn’t anywhere near done getting to the bottom of this, but Courfeyrac looked upset, and Combeferre had just walked in, glanced at them, and sat down at the complete opposite end of the table, so he decided to postpone his investigation. He accepted Courfeyrac’s apology, and gave him a little one-armed hug, which seemed to cheer him up a bit. Enjolras changed topics, asking him about how his school year had been instead.

Enjolras was the centre of attention all night, of course, since there were nine months’ worth of stories for him to tell and for him to hear. He tried to listen more than talk, as he was eager to hear what all of his friends had been up to in his absence.

During a lull in conversation, he pulled out his phone, ostensibly to check his email but really to see if Grantaire had responded. He had.

 **Grantaire:** _Sorry, yeah I am!! It’s nice to hear that you made it in safely though!! See you soon._

Enjolras tried to convince himself that he wasn’t disappointed, but gave up pretty quickly.

Dinner wound down when Joly got a little too tipsy and started hiccupping loudly every five seconds. Enjolras hadn’t been drinking, but almost everyone else had been, so around eleven, everyone decided to either head home or go out to drink more. Enjolras noticed that Combeferre hadn’t had anything to drink, either.

The two of them walked home together, Jehan accompanying them part of the way as their apartment was in the same direction. As soon as they got home, Enjolras was desperate to start questioning Combeferre about Courfeyrac, but he knew that he needed to use a different tactic on him – he wasn’t nearly as easy to make talk as Courfeyrac was.

“So was the apartment very lonely without me?” Enjolras asked lightly, getting himself a glass of water from the tap. “Or are you sad to have me back?”

“Of course I’m happy you’re back,” Combeferre said from the couch with a smile. “It was a little lonely, though I must say I didn’t miss you clacking away on your computer all the time.”

Enjolras laughed; Combeferre had been complaining about how loudly Enjolras typed for the entire two years they had lived together. Combeferre said he typed like he was trying to channel his anger into his fingers. Enjolras hadn’t yet thought of a good argument against the theory.

Enjolras lost track of his goal for a moment and just stared at his roommate, so happy that he could think of Combeferre as that again. The feeling of having someone in your life who knows you so well, and who loves you unconditionally, was something Enjolras had no idea just how much he was missing until right now.

Combeferre gave him a strange look, and Enjolras shook his head, reminding himself that there was someone else that Combeferre was supposed to feel that way about, too, as Enjolras did, and that he needed to make that so again.

Enjolras continued dancing around the issue. “Did you throw lots of parties while I was gone?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Combeferre said, his smile fading. “And I’m sorry, but it’s not going to work.”

“It has to, and you two have to fix this,” Enjolras said fervently, glad to be speaking straight at last. “What am I supposed to do? Make a timetable that dictates which of you I can see on what day? Meet up with Courfeyrac a block away to make sure that you’re never in the same place?”

“If you have to,” Combeferre muttered irritably.

Enjolras felt like strangling something. “Ferre, come on! You know you’ll have to tell me eventually. You can’t let this go on forever.”

“I’m not the one doing this. It’s all him,” Combeferre said, shifting up in his seat, now visibly pissed off.

“Funny, he said the opposite,” Enjolras said. “He said that if anyone should tell me what’s going on, it should be you.”

“Then he clearly cares about me even less than I thought he did.”

Enjolras let out a frustrated growl. “This is infuriating! I’ve been back for all of six hours, and we’re already arguing, because the two of you have decided to act like children! For fuck’s sake, whatever happened between you can’t be this important that it’s worth months of drama and fighting just to—”

“We slept together, okay?!” Combeferre yelled, gesturing violently with his hands. He stared daggers at Enjolras for a moment before falling back against the couch, deflated. “We fucking slept together, and it ruined everything. So there, now you know.”

Enjolras stood stock-still for a moment, eyes wide in shock. Of all the things Enjolras had imagined over the past two months, of all of the possible scenarios he’d dreamed up, that was _so_ not one of them.

“When?” Enjolras finally sputtered out, unable to think of a better question.

“In February. On Valentine’s Day,” Combeferre answered bitterly.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Do you think I’d care this much about you knowing if they did? We said we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. At least it made sense now why neither of them would talk to him; even in the midst of their biggest fight, neither would betray the other’s confidence.

Enjolras sat down on the couch, as far from Combeferre as he possibly could. He could feel the anger radiating off of him.

“What happened?” Enjolras said softly.

Combeferre took a deep breath. “I invited him over. Neither of us had any plans, and I was hoping… I don’t know, I was hoping that something would happen. I—”

“So, wait, you have feelings for him? It wasn’t just sex?” Enjolras interrupted. “Or you… had feelings for him?”

Combeferre was quiet for a moment. “I still do,” he said finally. “But don’t interrupt.”

“So we were on the couch… no, forget it, I’m not going through the details. We had sex; that’s the point. Then after, he turns to me and says that he had already planned a date with some random stranger he met in the metro for the 16th. And then he asked me if he should cancel it.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, finally understanding. “So what did you say?”

“I said that he shouldn’t bother. What was I supposed to say? The only reason he would have cancelled it was if I asked him to, which made it perfectly clear that he was still planning on going, and that having sex with me what just some one-time thing that meant nothing to him.”

Enjolras nodded along.

“And what you said to him at the meeting?”

Combeferre pushed his glasses up and pressed his hands against his face briefly. “I was pissed, okay? He’s been on like three dates since then, and he has no problem talking about them right in front of me. I just snapped. I know it was cruel, and I did apologize, but I never got a response.”

Enjolras shifted closer to him. “I’m really sorry, Ferre,” Enjolras said, trying to gauge whether Combeferre had calmed down enough to be hugged yet. He got his answer when Combeferre pulled him in first. Enjolras stayed there for a few minutes, patting Combeferre’s back.

“Thanks,” Combeferre said when they broke apart. “And sorry I was so distant to you for the past few months.”

“It’s okay, I understand completely,” Enjolras said.

Combeferre gave him a sad little smile. “It’s really great to have you back,” he said. “I hope this hasn’t overshadowed it, because I really am so happy that you’re here. I’m tired, though, so I’m going to go to bed, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Enjolras said, getting up. “We can talk more about it tomorrow. Or not, if you don’t want to, I don’t mind. Goodnight, Ferre.”

“’Night, Enj.” Combeferre headed for his room, and Enjolras headed for his own, laying down on the bed when he got there.

Now that he knew the severity of the situation, he needed to talk to Courfeyrac, and he no longer gave a crap about roaming charges.

 **Enjolras:** _Combeferre told me what happened._

 **Courfeyrac:** _Tell me what he sid or I won’t believe you, you migh just be trying to trick me_

Courfeyrac was an expert texter, and his misspellings could only mean one thing: he was drunk.

 **Enjolras:** _He said that you two had sex._

 **Courfeyrac:** _Ding dingding, now you nkow. Fucking ridiculous right? What was I tihnkkig_

 **Enjolras:** _Will you tell me your side of the story?? Briefly??_

 **Courfeyrac:** _Sure he already told you everything already._

 **Enjolras:** _Please?? I should hear your point of view, too, don’t you think??_

 **Courfeyrac:** _Fuck, fine.. I’ve bene practically in love with him forever, and after wedid it, he was weird and quiet, and I was scared so I asked him if I should cancel my date cause I was hoping he’d say yes bc he liked me too but then he said no. Anf then he wouldn’t talk to me anymore even thoguh I texted him and tried to talk to him al lth time._

 **Courfeyrac:** _And now I’m fucking crying at the bar thanks alot._

 **Enjolras:** _Hey, I’m really sorry, okay?? Please don’t cry. Do you want to hang out tomorrow, just the two of us??_

 **Courfeyrac:** _Can’t, going to some stupd dinner with Mariuss family._

 **Enjolras:** _Monday, then??_

 **Courfeyrac:** _Yeah_

 **Enjolras:** _Okay <3 Call me tomorrow if you want to._

 **Courfeyrac:** _K <3_

Enjolras couldn’t just leave him like that, though, so he texted Marius.

 **Enjolras:** _Are you with Courf??_

 **Marius:** _Yeah… oh crap, he’s crying._

 **Enjolras:** _Yeah. Make him not be._

 **Marius:** _Okay, I will._

 **Enjolras:** _Thanks._

Enjolras lay back on the bed. If only his best friends weren’t so upset right now, he’d be smiling at the plan already forming in his head. But if they weren’t so oblivious, the plan wouldn’t have needed to exist in the first place.

Enjolras was, as predicted, still wide awake, though his muscles were sore from the plane ride. He wanted to unpack a little, but he didn’t want to wake Combeferre if he’d managed to get to sleep already. Enjolras just took his laptop from his bag instead.

Three hours later, when Grantaire finally came online, Enjolras felt a little jolt of excitement.

 **Enjolras:** _Hey!!_

 **Grantaire:** _Hey!! I hope you didn’t wait up just for me!!_

 **Enjolras:** _No, I’m jet lagged anyway._

 **Enjolras:** _It’s so weird to talk to you now, knowing that you’re like what?? Ten blocks away?? Instead of across an entire ocean._

 **Grantaire:** _It is strange. I’m sorry I didn’t get to come to the airport today._

 **Enjolras:** _It’s okay. I know you had to work. I’m not going to lie, though, I was disappointed when I saw that you weren’t there. I really wanted to see you. I guess I still do._

 **Grantaire:** _I really want to see you too. It’s been too long._

 **Enjolras:** _I know it’s short notice, but any chance you’re free tomorrow??_

 **Grantaire:** _Maybe?? I might have to work. One of the other bartenders is sick, so she might not come in._

 **Enjolras:** _Okay. Well, you can let me know tomorrow then._

 **Grantaire:** _Okay. I’m beat, so I’m gonna go to sleep now. Goodnight._

 **Enjolras:** _Goodnight Grantaire._

Enjolras shut his eyes and rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face against the pillow.

_What a day._


	4. Paris

Enjolras slept in until one p.m. the next day. It was clear that it would take him a while to get back on a regular schedule.

He didn’t even wake up naturally; he was still asleep when his phone started buzzing at 1:06. Enjolras rubbed his eyes to wake himself up, then rolled over to grab his phone from the nightstand.

**Courfeyrac:** _You didn’t repeat any of what I said last night to Combeferre did you??????_

**Courfeyrac:** _Sorry, forget I asked. I know you wouldn’t._

Enjolras rolled his eyes. He knew that was just Courfeyrac’s way of asking him without feeling guilty about it. But he was right. Enjolras would never tell a secret like that. Well, maybe not never, but not this time, anyway. He texted Courfeyrac back quickly.

**Enjolras:** _Relax, I didn’t._

Those were the only two text messages on his phone, but Enjolras saw that he had a new Facebook message as well, and his eyes lit up when he saw that it was from Grantaire. Until he read it, that is.

**Grantaire:** _Hey, sorry, but I do have to work tonight._

Enjolras, already disappointed thirty seconds into the day, let his head fall back against the pillow before answering.

**Enjolras:** _Damn. I already have plans tomorrow, but what about Tuesday??_

Grantaire answered back quickly.

**Grantaire:** _I work Monday-Wednesday. Sorry._

Surely Grantaire didn’t work sixteen-hour days that required him to wake up, go to work, and then go directly to bed, Enjolras thought. He didn’t say that, though, because if Grantaire actually wanted to see him, he would find the time. Enjolras gave up on the idea of making individual plans with him out of frustration.

**Enjolras:** _That’s okay. Will you be at the meeting on Thursday??_

**Grantaire:** _Yeah, for sure. I’ll see you then._

**Enjolras:** _See you then._

Enjolras wasted a few more minutes scrolling through his newsfeeds and checking his email, then hopped out of bed.

He spent the day with Combeferre, unpacking and tidying his room, then watching crappy movies and eating takeout food on the couch. Combeferre was in a much better mood than he had been the previous night, though he was quieter than normal. Enjolras decided not to ask any more questions about the situation, wanting to keep things as light as possible considering what he had planned for the following day.

On Monday, he woke up at 12:30 – an improvement – and then ate breakfast and got ready quickly. He was set to meet Courfeyrac at two. Enjolras had told him that he’d seen a new restaurant in the neighbourhood that he wanted to try out, but if his plan worked, they wouldn’t be going anywhere at all.

He told Combeferre that he was meeting Feuilly for sushi. This insured that a) Combeferre wouldn’t ask to come along, because he was allergic to seafood, and b) he wouldn’t try to leave the apartment and hide, as he would have if he had known Courfeyrac was going to be around. He asked Courfeyrac to meet him at the front door of their building instead of coming up, and then he texted Feuilly to set up an alibi. Feuilly didn’t ask questions, and Enjolras knew that he wouldn’t have a problem with lying, as he’d done so to Enjolras two months earlier about Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s fight.

Enjolras sat on a bar stool in the kitchen of his apartment, Combeferre reading, completely unaware, on the couch, and thought to himself that, in another life, he could have made an excellent secret agent.

Then Courfeyrac texted him, and the plan was in motion.

He bade Combeferre goodbye and went downstairs. Courfeyrac was waiting ten feet from the front door.

“Hey,” he greeted Enjolras briskly. “Ready to go?” He looked ready to get as far away from the building as possible.

“Will you come upstairs for a minute?” he asked, Courfeyrac already shaking his head and backing away before Enjolras was finished speaking. “Combeferre’s not home,” Enjolras said, throwing in a dramatic eye-roll for good measure. “He left for the hospital half an hour ago, and he won’t be home until late. I have a present from the States for you, but it’s kind of delicate, so I didn’t bring it down.”

Courfeyrac’s ears perked up, just as Enjolras knew they would. Courfeyrac loved nothing more than getting presents.

Still, he was skeptical. “No offense to you, but I’d really rather not be in your apartment. I’m sure you can understand why.”

Enjolras shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll just give you your present another day.” He shouldered past Courfeyrac and started walking in the direction of the imaginary restaurant they were going to.

“Wait,” Courfeyrac said, and Enjolras stopped walking and smiled, his back still to Courfeyrac. “I’ll come up. I’m too curious now to wait.”

“Okay,” Enjolras said, feigning indifference. He led Courfeyrac back up the stairs.

The door to the apartment wasn’t locked, because Enjolras didn’t want Combeferre to have any warning that he was coming in. Instead, Enjolras fiddled silently with the key and distracted Courfeyrac by talking constantly while he did it, so that Courfeyrac would believe he was unlocking the door. Then he led Courfeyrac inside.

Combeferre was still sitting on the couch reading, and that distraction of his attention was enough to get Courfeyrac into the apartment and the door shut before either of them realized that the other was there. The second that they did realize, both of them turned to Enjolras, looking furious and desperate to escape, but Enjolras had already locked the door behind him and was leaning against it, a ridiculously satisfied look on his face.

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac snarled, “get away from the door and let me leave, or I will physically remove you.”

“No,” Enjolras said simply. “Combeferre, sit down,” he added harshly, when he saw that Combeferre was trying to run to his bedroom. “You, too,” he told Courfeyrac, gesturing to the bar stools.

Amazingly, they both listened. Maybe Enjolras didn’t want to be in charge of everything all the time, but sometimes he needed to be, and he was grateful for the effect that he had on people.

“Please, both of you, just listen to me for two minutes, and I promise you’ll both feel so much better after I’m done. And if you don’t, I won’t make you stay here any longer.”

“Start talking,” Combeferre demanded. Courfeyrac didn’t say anything, just gave a jerky nod to show that he would listen.

 _Good,_ Enjolras thought, _now don’t fuck this up._ He took a deep breath.

“Combeferre,” Enjolras said, “the reason Courfeyrac asked you if he should cancel his date or not was because he was nervous that you didn’t feel the same way about him and wanted reassurance. But, instead of just telling you that he had feelings for you, he acted like a coward and tried to make you say it first.”

Combeferre eyes widened. Courfeyrac looked murderous, but he was too stunned to say anything, so Enjolras got to keep talking.

“Courfeyrac, Combeferre was offended that you asked him if you should cancel the date. He thought that it was obvious that he wanted you to, and that he wanted you in general, and he took you asking as a sign that you didn’t care about him.”

Now both of them looked shocked, staring back and forth between Enjolras and each other. Enjolras almost wanted to laugh.

“That’s all I have to say,” Enjolras finished simply. “Now you two say things.” He leaned against the door and waited for someone to talk.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Courfeyrac said finally to Combeferre.

“Why didn’t you?” Combeferre countered.

“I tried! I texted you almost constantly for a month, and you wouldn’t talk to me—”

“You didn’t say that you liked me, you just said you wanted to talk. I figured you wanted to tell me—”

“Maybe if you’d actually let me talk—”

Enjolras tuned them out and tried to blend in with the wall while they rehashed every argument that they’d had in the past three months. He figured it was better than they get it all out now.

Twenty minutes later, they were still arguing.

“And what about the dates?” Combeferre asked.

“What about them?”

“Well, you claim that you had feelings for me, yet—”

“Sorry for trying to move on after you told me you had no problem with me going on a date with someone else! Or are you just going to trash talk me again? Enjolras wasn’t there for it last time, now he’ll get to see!”

Enjolras was now wishing that he wasn’t there for it this time, either. He realized in hindsight that it probably would have been if he had locked them in a closet or something instead of guarding the door himself.

“I apologized for that,” Combeferre said, glancing over at Enjolras. Enjolras turned his eyes to the ceiling and acted like he wasn’t listening. “I apologized for that _eight times_ ,” Combeferre finished in a stage whisper. “I was jealous, okay?”

“You were jealous?” Courfeyrac asked, in a completely different voice than before.

“Obviously,” Combeferre replied.

“Oh,” Courfeyrac said.

“I hated the thought of you with anyone but me,” Combeferre said quietly.

“Oh,” Courfeyrac repeated. Then he turned towards the door. “Enjolras, can you leave?”

“What?” Enjolras asked, snapping back into the conversation.

“Can you like, um, leave us alone for a bit?” Courfeyrac asked again.

“But I live here—” Enjolras started.

“Enj,” Combeferre said with a smile, “please?”

Both of them were looking at him with puppy-dog eyes, and Enjolras couldn’t resist. Besides, he was pretty sure he’d finished what he started anyway.

“Okay,” Enjolras said. “Just text me when I’m allowed to come back.” They both nodded, though neither of them was bothering to look at him anymore. Enjolras left, closing the door behind him.

Half an hour later, Enjolras was officially bored. Paris was a beautiful city, of course, but Enjolras had lived there his entire life, and walking in circles around his neighbourhood wasn’t very thrilling. He tried texting Feuilly to see if he actually did want to go and get sushi, but he was at work. He tried Joly and Bossuet and Jehan, too, but none of them replied.

Finally, two hours after he left, he got a text from Combeferre saying it was safe to go home. _Thank god,_ Enjolras thought. He was about to jump into the Seine and swim to the right bank just for something to do.

When he arrived home, Courfeyrac was gone, apparently having gone home to do some homework for a summer course he was taking. Combeferre, in an unusual show of physical affection, got up and hugged Enjolras as soon as he came in.

“Thank you very much for that horrible, horrible thing you did,” Combeferre said, and Enjolras laughed. “Please don’t ever do anything like that again.”

“Don’t give me a reason to,” Enjolras said lightly. “So things went well then?” They sat down on the couch.

“Yes, everything went well,” Combeferre said. It was clear that he was trying to withhold a grin, which was a good sign.

“Are you two like… dating now?” Enjolras asked.

“No,” Combeferre said. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“We’re both still a little mad at each other, even though we’ve resolved the reasons for the anger. It’ll take some time. But we can definitely stand to be around each other now. We _want_ to be around each other now,” he said. He was smiling irrepressibly now. “We kissed,” he added, quietly giddy.

“I’m glad?” Enjolras said, making a face. “That’s probably enough detail, though.”

Combeferre laughed easily, a sound that Enjolras hadn’t heard in months. It was nice.

***

It didn’t take long for them to become official – by the time the meeting ( _finally_ ) rolled around on Thursday, Courfeyrac stood to tell the entire crowd (minus Grantaire, who was late, as if just to infuriate Enjolras) that Combeferre was his boyfriend. This was met with a chorus of _thank fucking god you two finally figured things out because we were so sick of your bickering_ from their friends. Apparently, they hadn’t been as subtle about things as they thought.

Enjolras was pleased to be back in the Musain. His usual chair was at the centre of the long table most of the members sat at during meetings. Combeferre had been sitting there all year, but he’d offered it back to Enjolras today. Enjolras had refused at first, insisting that Combeferre had earned the spot, but the second time Combeferre asked, Enjolras had been unable to say no. He just couldn’t resist.

The first order of business at the meeting (which was still led by Combeferre, from the next seat over) was to reinstate Enjolras as president of the club, and to revert everyone else to their old positions. It passed unanimously, and Enjolras felt something settle in his chest that he hadn’t realized was bothering him until now. He leaned back in his chair, feeling content.

And then Grantaire decided to show up.

Enjolras was glad Combeferre was doing the talking instead of him, because the second his eyes locked with Grantaire’s, he felt his throat close up and his stomach drop to the floor. Grantaire gave him a wave and a little quirked half-smile before sitting down at a back table with Bahorel, and Enjolras felt his hand raise automatically to return the gesture. He had no idea what his face looked like, though he imagined it wasn’t very composed.

The images that he’d conjured up of Grantaire over the past few months while he was alone in his bed played in his head like a movie now, and Enjolras felt his cheeks redden, as though the others could tell what he was thinking. He was torn between the embarrassment of coming face-to-face with someone that you’ve fantasized about and the desire to climb across the table to tear Grantaire’s clothes off (a favourite daydream of his).

It wasn’t just that, though. Enjolras was no stranger to sex, and he never got this flustered about it. So why now, facing Grantaire, did he feel like a schoolboy with a crush, stomach full of butterflies, knees weak, hands shaky?

The answer was so obvious that even Enjolras couldn’t ignore it.

The meeting was a blur after Grantaire’s arrival. Enjolras didn’t listen to half of what Combeferre said, trying instead to stare at Grantaire without attracting suspicion. Finally, when Combeferre adjourned the meeting, Enjolras jumped up as fast as humanly possible and walked across the room to Grantaire’s table.

Luckily, Bahorel got up to talk to Feuilly at the same time, so Enjolras slid smoothly into the seat he had just vacated.

“Hi,” Enjolras said. _Wow, that was a great first line,_ his brain supplied.

“Hi,” Grantaire replied.

“Um,” Enjolras said. “It’s really nice to see you.” And then he did something stupid: he hugged Grantaire.

Grantaire stayed still, as if he didn’t know what to do, how to react to someone hugging him. (Realistically, Enjolras thought after, he probably just didn’t know how to react to _Enjolras_ hugging him, seeing as it had never happened before). Enjolras got distracted by how good Grantaire’s hair smelled and held on for a little longer than was probably acceptable, then pulled back abruptly.

“So how was…” Grantaire started.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Enjolras blurted out. “Like now? With me?”

Grantaire looked shocked. “What?”

“I mean,” Enjolras said, trying to wrangle some words together into a proper sentence. “Do you want to go grab food or something?”

“Uh,” Grantaire said. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have to go,” Grantaire repeated, standing up. “I… I just ate, anyway. And I have… a thing.”

“A thing?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire was already walking backwards towards the door.

“Yeah, a thing,” Grantaire repeated, his brow furrowed. “Bye.” Then he turned and walked out the door.

Enjolras just sat there staring the closed door for a moment. _What the hell just happened?_ he thought.

He was about to get up and rejoin the others, still in a bit of a daze, when he noticed that there was a cell phone sitting on the table in front of him.

“Bahorel,” Enjolras called out, holding up the phone. “Is this yours?”

Bahorel shook his head. “Nah, it’s R’s,” he said. “Where did he go?”

Enjolras didn’t answer. Instead, a bit out of habit and a bit out of nosiness, he pressed the button on the bottom of the phone. The screen lit up, and Enjolras stared at the clock for a minute. Then he nearly had a heart attack.

On Grantaire’s lock screen, there was a picture of a painting. A painting by Salvador Dali, called _The Persistence of Memory_ , the name and artist of which Enjolras knew because he had seen the painting in real life at the MoMA, where he had taken this exact picture.

Enjolras didn’t believe in signs or serendipity, but he did believe in what he could see with his own eyes.

“Bahorel,” he said, getting up. “What’s Grantaire’s address?”

Bahorel told him.

Enjolras didn’t even bother saying goodbye to anyone, just raced out the door, and practically ran the six blocks to Grantaire’s door.


	5. Paris

Enjolras knocked hard on the door five times.

Grantaire opened it immediately, and then looked as though he wished he hadn’t.

“You forgot your phone.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said. He reached out and took the phone from Enjolras’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Can I come in?” Enjolras asked.

“Why?”

“I wanted to ask you about your phone background,” Enjolras said.

“You looked at my phone background?!”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, rather calmly. He felt much more confident now that he could see annoyance on Grantaire’s face. Confrontation was so much easier than romance.

Grantaire opened the door wider, and Enjolras took that as an invitation.

“Why were you going through my phone?” Grantaire asked, a hint of attitude in his voice.

“I wasn’t,” Enjolras said. “I just hit the button out of habit. I have the same phone.” Enjolras produced his phone from his pocket as evidence.

“That’s not an excuse,” Grantaire said.

“No, probably not,” Enjolras continued. “But I did see the picture.”

“What about it?”

Enjolras moved closer, so that he was only a foot away from Grantaire, with Grantaire’s back against the wall. “Why do you have a picture I took as your phone background?” he asked.

“I like the painting,” Grantaire replied automatically.

Enjolras moved even closer. “Is that the only reason?”

Grantaire swallowed visibly. “No,” he answered.

“What else?”

“You’re starting to piss me off, you know.”

“Just tell me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Maybe I don’t care.”

“Enjolras.”

“Come on.”

“Enjolras—”

Enjolras put his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders. “Just tell me,” he begged.

Grantaire was angry now, and he shoved Enjolras’s hands off of him. “Because I’m fucking obsessed with you, that’s why,” he growled. Then he started babbling erratically. “I stopped going to meetings in the fall because you weren’t there. Then, right when I finally started feeling like I didn’t want to gawk in amazement at your face every second of every day, you decided you wanted to be my best friend! And that was fine, I guess, but now you’re back, and I can’t take it, I can’t stand looking at you knowing you don’t want me that way—”

Enjolras cut him off with a kiss.

He didn’t bother with technique, and he didn’t bother easing Grantaire into it. He kissed him messily, like he needed it to survive, pushing Grantaire’s lips apart with his tongue and closing every last bit of distance between their bodies. It was minutes before they broke apart.

“What do you want from me, Enjolras?” Grantaire asked after, his face still just inches from Enjolras’s.

Enjolras looked him straight in the eyes.

“I want you to take what you want from me,” he said breathlessly.

Grantaire was still for a moment. Then he turned them both around and pushed Enjolras up against the wall.

Grantaire took up Enjolras’s approach, kissing him desperately and pressing against him so that there was no space between Grantaire and Enjolras, and no space between Enjolras and the wall. He took Enjolras by the wrists and raised his arms above his head, then pinned them to the wall with his hands, not being the slightest bit gentle about it.

“Like this?” Grantaire muttered, moving away from Enjolras’s mouth to suck a bruise just beneath his ear. Enjolras could only moan in response. It was all _so much_ already.

“Ah ah ah,” Grantaire said defiantly, “You have to actually say it.” Enjolras knew what he was really asking, but appreciated that he found a way to do so that wouldn’t break the mood.

“Yes, please,” Enjolras said, in the most controlled voice he could muster.

Grantaire’s eyes darkened upon hearing Enjolras imploring him like that, and he pushed their hips together. Enjolras felt that Grantaire was as hard as he was, and bit his lip to stop from crying out.

Grantaire shifted both of Enjolras’s wrists into one hand, then moved the other down between them, pressing it to the front of Enjolras’s jeans. He continued biting and sucking at Enjolras’s neck – Enjolras was definitely going to be very bruised tomorrow, but he wanted it too badly to care – while Enjolras rutted against him hard.

“Please let me suck you off,” Enjolras whispered frantically, still pushing against Grantaire’s hand. “Please, Grantaire, I’ve thought about it for months; I want to so badly.”

Grantaire pulled back and just stared at him for a minute, seemingly speechless. When he did answer – “yeah, yeah, okay” – his voice was rough and shaky.

They switched positions again so that Grantaire was against the wall, with Enjolras facing him, but Enjolras didn’t move. He locked eyes with Grantaire, trying to convey what he wanted.

“On your knees,” Grantaire finally said, and Enjolras dropped to the floor.

He made short work of unzipping and shoving down Grantaire’s pants and boxers, and immediately took his cock into his mouth. Grantaire groaned above him and automatically twisted a hand into Enjolras’s hair. Enjolras took him in deeper, and used his own hand to demonstrate on Grantaire’s that it was okay to pull on his hair, and to pull _hard_.

Enjolras could do this all day. He’d spent so much time imagining this, so much time building it up in his mind, but it was a million times better in real life, with Grantaire swearing and pushing against his mouth. Too soon, Grantaire pulled him off by his hair.

“If you want me to fuck you, you have to stop now,” he said. Enjolras pulled his boxers up to cover him, then jumped to his feet.

“You want to fuck me?” he asked, hope and desire easily audible in his voice.

Grantaire moved a hand down Enjolras’s back to his ass and gave it a quick squeeze. “Of course,” he said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

There weren’t enough words or time in the world for Enjolras to express how singularly and intensely he wanted that. All he could do was nod soundlessly, and then follow Grantaire into the bedroom.

They fell onto the bed together, pushing the covers down, and Grantaire undressed them both efficiently. They spent minimal time exploring each other’s naked bodies before Grantaire grabbed for the lube and condoms, and Enjolras was glad, because he thought that if he stared at Grantaire’s body for any longer in his current state, he might explode.

Grantaire opened the bottle of lube, but paused before pouring any. “Have you done this before?” he asked.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I’ve had sex plenty of times, Grantaire.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Grantaire said, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing gets past you,” Enjolras muttered. “No, I haven’t, but I’ve penetrated myself plenty of times with toys, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” Enjolras liked the way Grantaire’s jaw slackened when he heard that, so he added, “thought about you plenty of times while I did it, too.”

Grantaire cleared his throat. “And, um,” he continued, “do we need a safeword for this?”

 _There’s nothing you could do to me that I wouldn’t take happily and then thank you for after,_ Enjolras thought, though he knew he could never say it.

“Not this time,” he answered. “We don’t have to do anything extreme today. But maybe in the future.” He wondered for a moment whether or not he should be worried about Grantaire’s reaction to that statement, but Grantaire simply nodded and lubed up his fingers.

Grantaire looked to Enjolras for the okay, then pushed the first finger inside him. It didn’t hurt – Enjolras was used to more than just one finger – but the sensation was completely different than it was with his own. Grantaire gave him a moment to adjust before moving, and Enjolras was grateful. But it was only seconds before Enjolras was pushing back against his finger, willing him to move. Grantaire obeyed.

It was clear that Grantaire knew what he was doing; he moved his fingers in ways Enjolras had never dreamed of, eliciting cries of pleasure from Enjolras on every stroke. Grantaire teased his prostate, and Enjolras’s cock twitched against his abdomen with every touch.

“I’m ready,” Enjolras said, when Grantaire could easily slide three fingers in and out of him.

“Okay,” Grantaire said, reaching for the condoms. “Flip over.” Enjolras obeyed, rolling over and pushing himself up on his hands and knees.

Enjolras heard Grantaire tear the condom wrapper, roll it on, and then move closer to him on the bed, pressing against his entrance.

“Ready?” he asked, and Enjolras breathed out a _yes_ in assent.

Then Grantaire was inside him, pressing deeper and deeper, coming to a stop once he bottomed out. Grantaire’s cock was bigger than his toys, but the stretch wasn’t bad, so Enjolras prompted him to move quickly. Though Grantaire started with a quick pace, he didn’t thrust into him hard, so Enjolras started moving his hips back in sync with Grantaire’s, until Grantaire got the hint and started pounding into him deeper.

“Fuck, Enjolras,” Grantaire swore behind him. “You look fucking incredible like this. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this! God, you’re sexy—”

“Don’t,” Enjolras said, cutting him off, and Grantaire stopped moving immediately and pulled back, so that he was barely penetrating him anymore.

“Don’t what?” he asked warily.

“Don’t, um,” Enjolras said, trying to find the right words. “Don’t praise me. Please. I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay, I get it,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras was thankful that he didn’t have to keep talking. “Do you want to keep going?”

Enjolras pushed back onto Grantaire, sliding him back inside of him. “Please,” Enjolras said, and it was all the confirmation Grantaire needed.

Enjolras hoped that he hadn’t offended Grantaire, or confused him, but after a minute, Grantaire tangled a hand back into his curls and pulled, and Enjolras knew he’d been understood.

“This okay?” Grantaire asked again. Enjolras nodded as well as he could within the hold Grantaire had on his hair.

They were quiet for a minute, except for Enjolras’s moaning, before Grantaire spoke again, his lips right next to Enjolras’s ear.

“You’re such a good fuck, Enjolras,” he said, and Enjolras shivered in pleasure, his cheeks reddening. “And there are so many more ways I want to fuck you. Tie your hands to the headboard and have my way with you, or push you up against a wall and take you with your pants around your knees.” Grantaire sped up the pace of his thrusts as he kept talking.

“I want to fuck your face, too. Would you like that?” Enjolras let out a loud cry at his words, covering his mouth to try and contain it. “You would, wouldn’t you?” Grantaire continued. “I’d like it too. I’d like to use your mouth and then pull back and come all over your face and your pretty red lips—”

Enjolras came with a scream that the neighbours most certainly heard, spending himself half onto the sheet before Grantaire moved his hand around to stroke him through the end of it. Only seconds later, Grantaire followed him over, pulling hard at Enjolras’s hair and swearing loudly as he did.

Grantaire stayed inside him for a minute while they both caught their breath. Then he removed himself and jumped off the bed, grabbing an old t-shirt from his dresser and tossing to Enjolras. He left the room, presumably to go to the washroom, leaving Enjolras alone.

Enjolras cleaned himself up, and attempted to clean the sheet, but found it was a lost cause. He crumpled it up and placed it beside the bed, then pulled the other two blankets up over himself.

Grantaire came back quickly and joined him in the bed. Grantaire looked as though he expected Enjolras to start talking – a valid expectation, given his previous experiences with him. But when Enjolras stayed quiet, his expression turned to one of worry.

“You okay?” he asked, moving closer to Enjolras. “Hey, Enj, your legs are shaking.”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras said. “I’m just not used to being at that position for so long.” He laughed a little, and it must have sounded as shaky to Grantaire as it did to him, because Grantaire wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in to cuddle.

Enjolras hadn’t exactly been lying when he said that he was fine before, but he felt a hundred times better once Grantaire had his arms around him. He snuggled closer to him, making sure Grantaire knew how much he appreciated it.

“That was really great,” Enjolras said, when he felt ready to speak. “Really, really great.”

Grantaire kissed his forehead. “Great doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he said, his voice a bit incredulous.

Enjolras shut his eyes and rested his head on Grantaire’s chest. “I think I might fall asleep here” he said, already halfway there. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Grantaire said. “I’m tired, too. Is it okay if I sleep here with you? I can go to the couch if you want.”

Enjolras tried to be as clear about his intentions as he could in this state of consciousness. “Grantaire, why would I want to sleep in your bed if I didn’t want you in it?” was all he could manage before he fell asleep.


	6. Paris

Enjolras woke up to the sun in his eyes, the noise of the city on the breeze, and Grantaire sitting on the pillow beside him, fully dressed.

“What time is it?” Enjolras mumbled, grabbing for his phone before Grantaire could answer. The lock screen told him it was 10:30. It also told him that he had two texts from Combeferre and one from Courfeyrac, all asking if he was coming home the previous night.

“How come you’re dressed already?” Enjolras asked, rolling over so that he was facing Grantaire. Grantaire was ostensibly looking at him, but his eyes seemed far away.

“I was going to go get us breakfast,” Grantaire said, his voice not betraying any emotion. “But I thought we should talk first.”

“Okay,” Enjolras said warily. “Should I put my clothes back on for this?”

“Probably.”

Enjolras leaned over the side of the bed and fished for his t-shirt and underwear. He threw them on quickly and sat up. He was sore from the previous night, but at least the pillow was soft. Grantaire remained silent.

“What do you want to talk about?” Enjolras asked, feeling very nervous.

Grantaire seemed unsure how to start. “The sex, first of all,” he said at last. “I’m really worried that I went too far with what I said, or that I hurt you, or something—”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras interrupted, “you really didn’t. That was some of the best sex I’ve had in my life.” The _some of_ part was a lie, but Enjolras didn’t want to freak Grantaire out.

“Are you sure?”

“Grantaire, _yes_ ,” Enjolras said emphatically. “I mean, you were there, did it not seem like I was enjoying it?”

“Yeah, it did, I just, I don’t know—”

“Did you like it?” Enjolras interrupted again, when it dawned on him that he should probably ask.

Grantaire finally met his eyes. “Yeah, of course I did,” he said. “I really, really did.”

“Okay. Well, good then,” Enjolras said. He gave Grantaire a half-smile, though it was dampened by the fact that he knew the conversation was nowhere near over. “What else did you want to say?” he prompted.

Grantaire stumbled over his words for a moment before getting it out. “Well, I just… I just wondered, I mean… what is this?”

Enjolras stared at him. “What is what?”

“This!” Grantaire exclaimed. “Us! If there is an ‘us’! Do you actually like me, Enjolras, or this just a physical thing?”

 _Oh,_ Enjolras thought.

“I’ll admit that, yes, when I started thinking about… this, it was just physical.” Even though he tried to hide it, Enjolras saw Grantaire’s face fall. He began to talk faster. “You sent me those pictures of all of you, and I hadn’t seen you in so long, and you just looked so… sexy, for lack of a better word—”

“I think that’s a great word,” Grantaire deadpanned. “But continue.”

“And, so, for a while, this was just a, I don’t know, a fantasy,” Enjolras stammered. He felt like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth, but he knew he had to keep going at this point.

“But then I got home, and I saw you,” he said. “And all of those months of us talking every day, me getting to know you better, just hit me all at once.”

“So…” Grantaire said, his eyes narrowed. “You do like me?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said. “I thought that was obvious.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “It really wasn’t.”

“I talked to you every day!” Enjolras said. “I have literally been trying to get you to hang out with me every day for the last week. You’re the one who has been blowing me off.”

“I thought— no, forget it,” Grantaire said. Enjolras decided to not to push it. “So you like me, then,” Grantaire repeated, as though he was trying to make himself believe it.

“ _Yes_ ,” Enjolras whined. “You like me, too, right? You said something to that effect last night, I think.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire answered. “Yes, of course I like you, too.”

“Then why are you so annoyed right now? I can see it all over your face.”

“Because you just made me drag it out of you!” Grantaire said loudly. “You wouldn’t say anything until I practically interrogated you. Last night was so confusing, I had no idea what I was supposed to do—”

“But you figured it out!” Enjolras interjected. “Without me even telling you, you knew exactly what I wanted.”

“It shouldn’t be a puzzle, though, Enj,” Grantaire said resolutely. “I shouldn’t have to be a mind reader to be with you. You’ve got to start telling me what’s going on in your head. I still don’t even know why you like me.”

If what Enjolras wanted was a challenge, he was certainly getting one.

“It’s hard for me,” he said quietly, after a minute. “I suck at talking about stuff.”

“You, bad at talking? Please.”

“Really, though,” Enjolras said. “When it comes to personal topics, I’m just not good at it.” He rubbed his eyes, taking a second to gather his thoughts.

He took a deep breath, preparing for a speech. “But you’re right, I need to work on it—”

“Did you just say I was right? Let me call the newspaper.” Grantaire was teasing now, which meant that he was no longer annoyed, which helped Enjolras keep talking.

“Let me finish, okay?” Enjolras said. He started again.

“I know you and I never really got along before, and that was because I found you kind of annoying, and sometimes I still do.” Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras made a face at him. “But when I was in New York, I was so homesick, and talking to you made me feel so much better. And then, I got back, and even though I wasn’t homesick anymore, I still really wanted to talk to you. And I feel like I can trust you, and I’m really attracted to you, and I just… I just really like you, okay?”

Grantaire smiled then, the first smile Enjolras had gotten from him since he’d been back, and Enjolras felt his face match Grantaire’s.

“Okay,” Grantaire said. He reached out and placed his hand on Enjolras’s cheek. Enjolras leaned into the touch.

“Since I can tell that was hard for you, and I’m really glad that you’re making progress, I’ll do the next part,” he said. “Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Do we have to?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire frowned. “I mean, can’t we just skip that part? I hate going on dates, they make me all nervous and worked up. We’ve already slept together; can we just move on to the part where we eat breakfast in bed together in the morning?”

“Are you saying that you want me to go get the food now?” Grantaire joked.

“Well, maybe,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “But, seriously, though, are you okay with that?”

Grantaire leaned in, giving Enjolras a quick kiss on the lips. “Very, very okay with it.”

“Good.”

“And I will actually go get us breakfast now,” Grantaire said, hopping off the bed. “Because you took forever to wake up and I’m seriously hungry.”

“Okay,” Enjolras said. “Um, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were worried about me last night, because I didn’t come home. Do you mind if I text them and tell them that I’m here?”

Grantaire smiled at the floor, his cheeks visibly reddening. “No, I don’t mind at all,” he said, shaking his head slowly. Then he was gone.

Enjolras stripped his clothes off and slid back down under the covers, and then reached for his phone.

**Enjolras:** _Hey, sorry, I probably should have texted you, but I fell asleep early. I spent the night with Grantaire._

**Combeferre:** _WHAT!?!?!? WHAT DOES “WITH” MEAN?!?!?!_

**Enjolras:** _Is this Courf??_

**Combeferre:** _Maybe. BUT YOU DIDN’T ANSWER MY QUESTION_

**Enjolras:** _I’ll explain later. Is Combeferre actually with you??_

**Combeferre:** _Yes, sorry, Courfeyrac read your message over my shoulder and stole my phone._

**Combeferre:** _But, in fairness, I am just as curious about what you said as he is._

**Enjolras:** _I’ll come home in a few hours. Probably. I’ll tell you both everything then._

**Combeferre:** _!!!!!!!!!!! SOONER!!!!_

**Combeferre:** _Sorry again. But seriously, we are anxiously waiting._

Enjolras set his phone down and shut his eyes, listening to the chatter of the streets drifting in through the window.

Grantaire returned fifteen minutes later with fresh croissants. He loaded them with jam and then brought them and two glasses of water into the bedroom. When he saw that Enjolras had taken his t-shirt and boxers off again, he removed his own clothes and climbed back into bed.

They ate breakfast in silence, save for the sound of chewing, but spent the entire time stealing glances at each other and then looking away and smiling. Grantaire had used way too much jam, and at one point he licked some of the extra from his hand obscenely, nearly making Enjolras choke on his food.

The minute they were done eating, Grantaire was on top of him, alternating between kissing him deeply and pulling back to tease him. Enjolras held his sticky hands out, away from Grantaire’s body. Once Grantaire had sucked another bruise onto Enjolras’s neck, he kissed his way down his body. He surprised Enjolras by settling between his knees and taking his cock into his mouth. Enjolras shuddered and moaned at the sensation.

As he sucked the jam off his fingers, occasionally gasping due to Grantaire’s clever tongue, Enjolras had but one thought on his mind:

_God, I love Paris._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this, and thanks, of course, to [Carol](http://ronnlynch.tumblr.com)!


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